Buddy Guy

He's Chicago's blues king today, ruling his
domain just as his idol and mentor Muddy Waters did before him. Yet
there was a time, and not all that long ago either, when Buddy Guy
couldn't even negotiate a decent record deal. Times sure have changed
for the better -- Guy's first three albums for Silvertone in the '90s
all earned Grammys. Eric Clapton unabashedly calls Buddy Guy his
favorite blues axeman, and so do a great many adoring fans worldwide.

High-energy guitar histrionics and boundless on-stage energy have always
been Guy trademarks, along with a tortured vocal style that's nearly as
distinctive as his incendiary rapid-fire fretwork. He's come a long way
from his beginnings on the 1950s Baton Rouge blues scene -- at his first
gigs with bandleader "Big Poppa" John Tilley, the young guitarist had to
chug a stomach-jolting concoction of Dr. Tichenor's antiseptic and wine
to ward off an advanced case of stage fright. But by the time he joined
harpist Raful Neal's band, Guy had conquered his nervousness.

Guy journeyed to Chicago in 1957, ready to take the town by storm. But
times were tough initially, until he turned up the juice as a showman
(much as another of his early idols, Guitar Slim, had back home). It
didn't take long after that for the new kid in town to establish
himself. He hung with the city's blues elite: Freddy King, Muddy Waters,
Otis Rush, and Magic Sam, who introduced Buddy Guy to Cobra Records boss
Eli Toscano. Two searing 1958 singles for Cobra's Artistic subsidiary
were the result: "This Is the End" and "Try to Quit You Baby" exhibited
more than a trace of B.B. King influence, while "You Sure Can't Do" was
an unabashed homage to Guitar Slim. Willie Dixon produced the sides.

When Cobra folded, Guy wisely followed Rush over to Chess. With the
issue of his first Chess single in 1960, Guy was no longer aurally
indebted to anybody. "First Time I Met the Blues" and its follow-up,
"Broken Hearted Blues," were fiery, tortured slow blues brilliantly
showcasing Guy's whammy-bar-enriched guitar and shrieking,
hellhound-on-his-trail vocals.
Although he's often complained that Leonard Chess wouldn't allow him to
turn up his guitar loud enough, the claim doesn't wash: Guy's 1960-1967
Chess catalog remains his most satisfying body of work. A shuffling "Let
Me Love You Baby," the impassioned downbeat items "Ten Years Ago,"
"Stone Crazy," "My Time After Awhile," and "Leave My Girl Alone," and a
bouncy "No Lie" rate with the hottest blues waxings of the '60s. While
at Chess, Guy worked long and hard as a session guitarist, getting his
licks in on sides by Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Little Walter, Sonny Boy
Williamson, and Koko Taylor (on her hit "Wang Dang Doodle").

Upon leaving Chess in 1967, Guy went to Vanguard. His first LP for the
firm, A Man and the Blues, followed in the same immaculate vein as his
Chess work and contained the rocking "Mary Had a Little Lamb," but This
Is Buddy Guy and Hold That Plane! proved somewhat less consistent. Guy
and harpist Junior Wells had long been friends and played around Chicago
together (Guy supplied the guitar work on Wells' seminal 1965 Delmark
set Hoodoo Man Blues, initially billed as "Friendly Chap" because of his
Chess contract); they recorded together for Blue Thumb in 1969 as Buddy
and the Juniors (pianist Junior Mance being the other Junior) and
Atlantic in 1970 (sessions co-produced by Eric Clapton and Tom Dowd),
and 1972 for the solid album Buddy Guy & Junior Wells Play the Blues.
Buddy and Junior toured together throughout the '70s, their playful
repartee immortalized on Drinkin' TNT 'n' Smokin' Dynamite, a live set
cut at the 1974 Montreux Jazz Festival.

Guy's reputation among rock guitar gods such as Eric Clapton, Jimi
Hendrix, and Stevie Ray Vaughan was unsurpassed, but prior to his
Grammy-winning 1991 Silvertone disc Damn Right, I've Got the Blues, he
amazingly hadn't issued a domestic album in a decade. That's when the
Buddy Guy bandwagon really picked up steam -- he began selling out
auditoriums and turning up on network television (David Letterman, Jay
Leno, etc.). Feels Like Rain, his 1993 encore, was a huge letdown
artistically, unless one enjoys the twisted concept of having one of the
world's top bluesmen duet with country hat act Travis Tritt and
hopelessly overwrought rock singer Paul Rodgers. By comparison, 1994's
Slippin' In, produced by Eddie Kramer, was a major step back in the
right direction, with no hideous duets and a preponderance of genuine
blues excursions. Last Time Around: Live at Legends, an acoustic outing
with longtime partner Junior Wells followed in 1998. In 2001, Guy
switched gears and went to Mississippi for a recording of the type of
modal juke-joint blues favored by Junior Kimbrough, R.L. Burnside and
the Fat Possum crew. The result was Sweet Tea: arguably one of his
finest albums and yet a complete anomaly in his catalog. Oddly enough,
he chose to follow that up with Blues Singer in 2003, another completely
acoustic effort that won a Grammy. For 2005's Bring 'Em In, it was back
to the same template as his first albums for Silvertone, with polished
production and a handful of guest stars.

A Buddy Guy concert can sometimes be a frustrating experience. He'll be
in the middle of something downright hair-raising, only to break it off
abruptly in mid-song, or he'll ignore his own massive songbook in order
to offer imitations of Clapton, Vaughan, and Hendrix. But Guy, whose
club remains the most successful blues joint in Chicago (you'll likely
find him sitting at the bar whenever he's in town), is without a doubt
the Windy City's reigning blues artist -- and he rules benevolently.